


In Vino

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Fluff & Angst [203]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, Post TFA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 12:12:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10571067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: In vino, veritas.





	

Hux has never seen Kylo get drunk, which isn’t much of a surprise. For the first few years, he wasn’t even convinced he was _Human_ , even if he _was_ supposedly the son of several Human-shaped parents. It had been ages before he’d taken his mask off for the first time, and the man literally never eats or drinks in front of anyone, other than water when he’s training. 

Hux sometimes wonders if there’s a straw inside his suit, to hydrate him. Like, a bag somewhere in those folds of fabric, up to a tube near his mouth. But that’s probably just him being silly, right?

They barely got out of that ‘debriefing’ with the Leader alive. Hux had been very much afraid he’d be terminated then and there, and it had been wise not to eat or drink beforehand, in case he expelled it in his fear, but now it means the drinking (of alcohol)  _now_ is more… more. In him. It’s more. Thing. Potent. 

Hux swirls the glass around, wishing he had the constitution to handle more, but he can already feel it making everything he is wobble. He needs to keep enough sense to be able to walk (mostly straight-lined) back to his rooms, and not… well. Fall asleep here, in the officers’ not-really-but-yes bar.

Where Kylo is also sitting, nursing his own drink. He’s drunk considerably less than Hux, but every one he does drink he shoots back in one, which is making him red-eyed and even more unsound than Hux.

The angry red line stroking over his face seems even more horrific now. Hux keeps wanting to reach out and touch, even though it’s disgusting, because he can’t. Stop. Thinking it. He doesn’t really want to do it, because it would be gross (and hurt Kylo), but the thought won’t go away and he is going to need to sit on his hand, soon, if he doesn’t stop itching to touch.

Kylo catches him staring, and Hux looks abashedly down, his hand sneaking under his thigh on the chair as the other clutches his tumbler. He needs to stop looking at it, and wondering how it will heal. 

“It’s not like I wanted them to blow it up,” Kylo mumbles. “I wanted to kill Han Solo. And then I wanted to kill the girl, if she wouldn’t come to the Dark Side, but that _bastard_ had to shoot me…”  


“No one accused you of sabotaging the planet, just being stupid,” Hux reminds him. “By not telling me what was going on.”  


“You’d have just had him shot, and I needed to kill him. For… for reasons.”  


“Reasons.”  


“Reasons.”  


Kylo does not expand further, so Hux sighs, and downs his drink. “You should have just… just got the droid. Killed the girl.”

“I should have done a lot of things.”  


Kylo rarely admits to being anything but perfect, and that makes Hux startle. Their eyes meet, and don’t part. It’s uncomfortable, and sort of… sort of… charged? Or is that the booze?

“You never really liked it.” It being his beloved Starkiller, destroyer of worlds.   


“No, I didn’t,” the Knight admits.  


“Why? Isn’t it… just what Darth Vader would have done?”  


“Maybe.”  


“So why didn’t you like it?” he pushes, needing to know, and knowing that this might be his only shot at real honesty from Kylo on the subject.  


“Death from afar feels wrong. I like… if… if I have to kill someone, I want it to be… real. Not… not a button on a ship.”  


“Death is death.”  


“I know. I just… you wouldn’t understand.”  


No, he wouldn’t. It was more efficient that way, and you couldn’t really make as big a statement running just one person through with a lightsaber. Even Han Solo. Even Luke Skywalker. Okay - maybe Luke Skywalker. Maybe not. He’s been gone so long that is he even relevant? Hux doesn’t know. 

Kylo downs the next shot, and pours them both another each. Hux nurses his, and wishes he felt better about this, but really it’s just an attempt to get away from things. It isn’t working.

(Maybe it isn’t getting away from it. Maybe - maybe - he’s facing it, but the only way to face it is sideways on, drunk, and with someone there who understands. He knows that, deep down, even if he’s two drinks away from throwing up everything, and even if he’s feeling his heart pound inside his ribs.)

“I thought the first time I would be in his presence… he would be congratulating me,” Hux admits, hating his honesty even as he needs it. “I thought I’d be elevated to the highest rank. Lauded as the most valued officer. I… I didn’t think I’d be terrified for my life.”  


Kylo snorts. “He wouldn’t ever meet you for that. He’d keep you wanting, even if you gave him everything he wanted. He’d never let you feel like you’d _won_ , because then you wouldn’t need him.”

It’s probably true, and it hurts to hear it. Hux knows his drive to excel is all that keeps him in line, all that keeps him getting up in the morning. He knows if he ever got to the peak that he’d lose all interest in life, and the thought of what he’d do next terrifies him if he gets too close to the idea.

Who would he be, if he ever made it? What would be the point in waking up? Why would he bother to breathe?

“You’re probably right,” Hux concedes, feeling the chill down his spine. Why is he here? Why is he still here, when he knows how dispensable he is? When he’s literally afraid for his life?  


Right. He has nowhere else to be. That’s why.

Hux downs this drink, and shakes his head when Kylo offers him another. He doesn’t want to throw up, and his belly feels heavy, now. He sways in his seat, and then… it just all comes out. All at once, all of a sudden.

“I’ve given my whole damn _life_ to this Order, from the day I was born, pretty much. They didn’t want me - or - or _he_ didn’t want me. He made me, then he didn’t give a fuck. And I kept thinking… maybe if I do well enough, it’ll make people like me, but it didn’t. Doing well just makes people hate you, and resent you, and want to kill you, or take your place. And doing bad makes people also want to kill you, so basically, you’re fucking hated no matter what. I just - I don’t get it? What do I need to do? How do you make people like you, because _nothing_ seems to work. **Everyone** hates me. _**I** _ hate me. Me! I hate me! And I just - I just - I’m too far in, now, and I have to keep going because if I don’t, then I die, but when I do die no one will even care because no one gives a fucking godamn arse-rotting shit about me! I’m just another gear in the machine, and, and, and–”  


Hux’s tirade dies, just about the time that Kylo leans in. 

Hux freezes, suddenly convinced Kylo is going to snap his neck or something, but instead there’s a push of chapped, alcohol-sweet lips against his own. They smush in place, and then sort of stay still, and hold there.

Kylo Ren is trying to kiss him, and Hux doesn’t even fucking know how to reciprocate, let alone if he wants to. He’d never - he’d - no one would _ever want to kiss him so the whole concept is so foreign to him as_ –

“I’m sorry,” Kylo says, as he pulls away. “I thought… I mean…”  


“…I… you…”  


“I can go,” Kylo offers, getting ready to bolt. “I can make you forget, if you want, I didn’t mean to offend you, I just–”  


Hux grabs his wrist, feeling his heart bounce some more. His stomach is threatening its own resistance, and his head is whirling, but the idea that Kylo’s concerned with his _feelings_ \- that he somehow… cares? About upsetting him? About his loneliness?

“I… didn’t know you were… I didn’t know you wanted that,” Hux says, his voice reedy and weak. 

“Me either. I mean… I… I thought about it, but I… I didn’t think you’d want to, and then you were so hurt, and I didn’t like seeing you hurt, and you shouldn’t feel so useless because you’re _not_  and you’re _good_ and I just… I just… damnit, I wanted to make you feel better!”  


Which is the most he’s ever heard Kylo say at once before, and he feels oddly… buffeted. Kylo actually cares about his wellbeing. Kylo _cares_. And wants to kiss him. 

“How do I know this isn’t just you drunkenly trying to get laid?” Hux asks, cautiously.  


“Because I’m too drunk to actually have sex right now,” Kylo admits, with a weirdly sober certainty.   


“…probably same here.”   


“I mean it, though. I - you look down on yourself, and you shouldn’t. And I know I’m an asshole, but I’m… I don’t know how to talk to you, and it makes me angry, and then I act like a shit.”  


Hux laughs, and his hand slips down to Kylo’s. They hold gently, and squeeze. “You do, but so do I.” He runs his tongue over his lips, wondering.

Kylo is attractive. Smart. Strong. Wilful. Sometimes obstinate and contrary and irritating, but he also pushes Hux to be on his toes all the time, to be his best. He’s passionate and fierce, and he’s… well. He’s a perfect foil. Hux has wished many a time that they could get over their damn differences, but now he finds out that some of those differences were some form of sublimated, frustrated longing?

Yep. That’s _definitely_ makes him feel better. Something lifts inside him, and he stares fondly back at the younger man. “How about we… see if we feel the same way when we’re sober?” he offers. “Then we don’t have to worry about it. If we wake up and we want to not ever talk about it again, that’s fine. But if we do…”

“…we both come here, when our shifts end? And if we’re here…”  


“…then we want to explore it further,” Hux concludes, nodding. They’re often on the same page, and that helps, too. He licks his lips again, and watches as Kylo’s eyes darken.   


Yes. That definitely holds some appeal. 

“I’ll be here,” Kylo promises. “You… you… are much better than you think you are, Hux.”  


Oddly, that praise feels more intense than anything the Leader’s ever said to him, or any superior officer. It’s not just about his work, or his dedication to the cause. It’s about… _him_. And it makes him feel good, because… Kylo’s opinion of him _matters_. (It always has.)

“I’m not the only one who sells himself short,” Hux replies, and leans in to give him the faintest of answering kisses… before he finds his wobbly feet on the floor, so he can leave before he tries to do something he wants to be sober for. (Oh, he wants to stay so very, very much, but he knows he shouldn’t. Knows he’ll want it so much more if he’s sober. Knows he’ll be terrified without the liquid courage, but knows it will be **him**. Only him. His will, and not the alcohol. Him. Yes.)  


Kylo’s hand steadies him, and Hux blushes at it. Their eyes meet one more time, and there’s a nod of understanding. Hux straightens up, and walks (mostly straight-lined) back to his room. 

He thinks maybe he has a reason to get up tomorrow, even with the headache that’s looming. And he _knows_ he’ll come here, too. But he’s going to need to research how you kiss, first. 

No point doing anything you don’t want to excel at, after all. Go big, or go home. He has to live up to Kylo’s inflated image of him, anyway. 


End file.
